Unspun
by Sandrilene Laterne
Summary: Tris, Sandry, Daja, and Briar return to Discipline, just in time for the final stage of what has been in progress for millennia...**ch 5**
1. Dreams

In the Duke's Citadel, a sunstreaked brunette thrashed in her dreams. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, gasping for breath.

Sandry blinked as her room came into focus. The glowing crystal her friends had made for her revealed her room, empty except for her nightstand, bed, and the chest at the foot of it. A few stars twinkled outside her window.

Sandry had a nagging sense of almost remembering something important. She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow before trying to remember why her dream had scared her so badly, absent-mindedly tugging at a honey brown braid. Nothing. She concentrated harder, struggling to grasp the wisp of thought, and failed.

Her eyes snapped open as she sighed with frustration. Abnormally edgy from too little sleep and the lingering sense of information lost, she yanked an embroidery hoop from her nightstand and started to sew. Still shaking slightly from her disturbing dream, she slipped and caught the edge of a sleeve on the needle without noticing. A thread came loose when she moved to take the next stitch. Sandry glanced down when she'd felt the first tug. As if in slow motion, she watched the thread pull out of the fray. The slightest feeling of recognition hit her, causing a shiver. Panicking, she quickly pulled it away from the needle and ordered it to weave itself back into her sleeve before almost throwing the hoop back on the nightstand.

***

Sandry gazed at her letter to Dedicate Lark at Winding Circle, vaguely watching the words dance in and out of focus. She was almost afraid of going to sleep, in case she had another nightmare like yesterday's. But she was so tired…

Sandry woke in the same condition she had the night before, terrified, without knowing what the dream had been. She still had no idea what it had been about, except for a vague sense of something coming undone. 

For comfort, she pulled out a spun circular thread with four lumps in it. Each lump represented her or one of her friends. She fingered it, noticing how the thread felt looser than she remembered it originally being. _I have to stop playing with it, _she thought. _I've weakened the spin. I don't want to know what would happen if I broke it._ She gently put it back in the box.

***

Sandry tossed and turned in her dreams for the third night in a row. This time, though…

A rope was being separated into four strands, slowly and painfully.

_Unspun._ The thought drifted to her like a whisper.

_No_, _stop it, stop it,_ she thought as a sense of urgency washed over her. The rope had to stay together. If it came apart—

Sandry woke with a start, still breathing hard. It seemed the dreams were getting clearer. What did they mean? Some instinct told her to figure it out, that it was vital.

She sat there past the dawn, trying to puzzle it out while staring out the window into the distance. Suddenly she felt the slightest shift in her magical consciousness. _They're coming_. All thoughts of the dream flew out of her head as Sandry eagerly sent them a message.

_Briar? Daja? Tris? Is that you? Are you coming home?_

So much for the surprise, Briar mind-grumbled. _Told you she'd notice. Where's my silver astrel?_

I thought she wouldn't, replied Daja defensively. _ We never did mention when we'd come back._

Come on, Trader, you know her. She noticed when my sleeve popped three stitches—just three.

So? I'd see that.

From across the room?

Daja changed tactics. _But she has loads on her mind—_

This is the girl who nearly tackled me the day I came home from quarantine.

Still, who would have thought?

Um, Daja, Briar?

What? They asked in unison.

__

Welcome to the Ragat chorus, Sandry teased. _Anyway, where's Tris?_

Here, was the redhead's absent-minded reply.

_Why didn't you say anything?_

I'm in the middle of Tide Patterns of the Syth. _Why do you three always bother me when I'm reading?_

Because you're always reading, the other three replied simultaneously.

_Great, _said Briar. _I leave you girls for two year's and I'm still doing that. I haven't even met up with the Bag yet._

Briar, you've known her for six years. She isn't like that. Aren't you ever going to give up on the nickname?

Fine. It doesn't annoy her as much as it should anyway. Got anything more insulting?

Daja sighed in exasperation.

__

How long before you return?

I don't know. Briar? Tris?

Don't ask me.

Niko says we should be back at around three. Can I finish my re—gods curse it all. I've never going to finish this book. Niko and Rosethorn are calling. We have to go.

Oh, fun. More riding.

It's not that bad, Briar. I go riding with Uncle nearly every morning.

That's you.

Can you try to enjoy it?

No.

Go.

Aww, come on. Don't you miss little old me enough to talk more?

No. 

You always manage to throw it back in my face.

That's because you'll find any excuse you can not to get on a horse. Admit it—that was underhanded.

Briar inserted comical mock-hurt into his voice. _How could you think I would—_he cut off his sentence with a flurry of curses.

__

What's wrong?

Rosethorn twisted my ear.

Ohhh. That explains it.

Sandry felt Rosethorn lay a hand on Briar's arm, connecting with the mind-link. _Sandry, _came the dedicate's sharp mind voice._ Mind letting the boy go? I'd let you talk to him as we ride, but then he'd lose his concentration and fall off the horse even more._

Oh, no, Rosethorn, of course I don't mind. Please, feel free to take him, said Sandry sweetly.

_Hear that, boy? Just lost your excuse. No more delays. Come, now._

Sandry felt Rosethorn dragging Briar just before she ended the connection. Smiling, she got up and began to dress.

***

Sandry appeared downstairs in the plainest gown she could find in her wardrobe, a blue overgown on top of a dove gray undergown with tight cuffs and full sleeves. She found him in a study.

"Uncle!"

He looked up from his papers. "Yes, Sandrilene?"

"I heard from them, all three of them!" Sandry could hardly contain her glee.

He didn't need to ask who "they" were. "It's been…three months since you last heard from them?" he asked, then suddenly frowned slightly. "I don't remember any messengers."

"Mind-link, Uncle," she reminded him.

The Duke smiled ruefully. "Of course. How silly of me. What is the news?"

"They're coming back," Sandry answered, blue eyes shining.

"When?"

"This afternoon."

Duke Vedris summoned a maid. "Pack Lady Sandrilene's bags for a visit to Discipline—two to three weeks." She hurried off to obey.

"No," Sandry protested. "You won't get rid of me that easily. I came here to take care of you. If you're not watched, you'll fall into all your bad habits again. I'll just visit for the afternoon and come back."

"My dear, I know how much you miss your friends. I simply will not allow you to stay here and tend to me while your friends long for your presence." The Duke's eyes were kind, and now developed a twinkle. "Besides, how could I relinquish a chance to be free of my nursemaid, if only for a few weeks?" The sparkle in his eyes threatened to spread a smile to his mouth, which he battled valiantly to keep stern.

"Uncle, " Sandry said with raised eyebrows, as a little of the frustration she was feeling leaked into her voice.

The Duke lost the battle with his face, letting a small smile turn up the corners of his mouth. "If need be, as Duke of Emelan, I'll order you to go."

Sandry closed her eyes, hung her head, shook it, then came back up before opening them with an exasperated sigh. Normally, she would win this battle, but she did want to see her friends again, and it showed. "All right, I surrender. I'll go." She said, resigned.

Duke Vedris chuckled softly "if it helps, I'll be on my best behavior."

"You'd better be," Sandry threatened. "I'm sending Yazmin to check on you every day."

****

Waaaaahhhh! I've been planning this story since _September, _yes, _September_, and I went on fanfic some time ago and saw someone's summary with almost the exact same plot! This was supposed to be my own baby, my one original idea! *sobs* _Why?_ Oh, well, I didn't read it, and never will, so if anything else resembles it, I can't help it and it's not my fault. 

Okay, so as I said, it seems oh-so-typical at first, but becomes more interesting later. In a way, it still will be typical, but—well, you'll see. Chapter 1 is really a prologue. I've also changed some things from the CoM and TCO series to make this story work, which will be explained in chapter two. Also, I always thought a few things about how tight their mind-link was didn't work in a practical sense, so I'll tell you all now that they can talk to each other, but that's it, except for kinda sensing where everybody is. And I'm warning you now: this will be updated very slowly, but it doesn't depend on an exact number. Plus I won't have individual comments to each reviewer before the beginning of each chapter. People yelled at me for that last time. 

For those who don't like Sandry, tough luck. Don't read another chapter. There are multiple reasons why she has to be the main character. The very plot depends on it—trust me when I say it all ties in.

Big thanks to Miss Chips, who helped me with some of the finer parts of the story I couldn't decide on. Couldn't have done it without you. Indirect thanks to Arsahi and Cami. If they hadn't kept on updating when so many others stopped, I wouldn't have started writing this a few weeks ago. The more good writing I see, the more I'm inspired to write.

Okay, I'll stop with the long A/N. Review! The more I get, the more likely I am to update sooner. 


	2. Reunion

****

Crap, forgot the disclaimer last time. Well, I don't own it. There's a reason this is under _Tamora Pierce Fanfic._

I know I said no individual comments to reviewers, but I can't help it. They will be short though.

Thanks to the encouragement from my Kiara, Russetwolf, and Miss Chips, who had to read all my rants of indecision. To Andrea, "Ouch, it bites." Well, that was kinda harsh, but maybe I deserved it. And if you don't like fluff, don't read romance. Summaries/genres there for a reason. And there's a reason why I stopped writing it. Got tired of nothing but fluff. I probably will have some in this one, but it _does_ focus on an action/adventure/mystery plot.

I warn you all now, the letters in the chapter are rather boring, but somewhat necessary. Feel free to just skim past all of them, as long as you know that all the Circle's students are gone. And there's a reason for all this to happen. And the conversation was awkward, for some reason. I couldn't get it to work.

Sandry shifted in her seat in the wagon, restless. She wanted to ride. Unfortunately, all her breeches were in a state of disrepair, and she knew she'd regret riding sidesaddle all the way to Winding Circle. Sandry sighed in frustration and plucked a bag from her side. Opening it up, she ran across some bits of cloth, thread, and the wooden box that held a pin cushion and a few needles. She fingered the lid, then changed her mind and put the box back. _I'd rather _not_ stab myself, _she thought glumly. _Though it may be more interesting than staring at the inside of the wagon._

She dug a little deeper and pulled out a stack of letters. Regrettably, she hadn't had time to read them. _I have time now, more than I know what to do with._ She flipped it open.

It was from Pasco. About three weeks ago, Kalaryn Aselat, a friend of Lark and Yazmin, had come to visit. She'd been fascinated by Pasco's magic. Now, warding him was no longer necessary, and he didn't make mistakes unless deliberately trying a new spell, two arguments he used when Kalaryn asked to "borrow" him, offering to take him to Capchen to learn their dances. He had something of a point, though in the end, it was his incessant whining that made Yazmin growl agreement and Sandry relent, her patience worn unusually thin.

__

Harrier the Clawed, Mila, Green Man, Shurri, Hakkoi, Trader Koma, even Lakik the Trickster, it doesn't matter who, someone save me!

Lady Sandry, you're supposed to keep me out of trouble. How could you let me go with Mistress Kalaryn? You should have hit me over the head and tied me up until she left. Why didn't you tell me that all working dancers were just pretty, graceful, well-disguised monsters. I thought the little monster was the only one. Mistress Kalaryn is like a cat—curious and cruel. I'm surprised she hasn't held me underwater just to see how long before I'd drown.

She had me try this awful stretch. I had to sit on the floor with my legs straight out in front of me, then fold myself in half and bring my arms back until they went straight up. When I couldn't, she forced me into it, all the while muttering about how she could still do it easily when she was so much older, sounding exactly like the little monster back home. It's not my fault if I'm a normal person with bones. She finally had to help me back up. I couldn't move for a week. When I could finally walk without wincing, she made me do it again, to see how fast I recovered. And yet again, yesterday. The simple act of writing to you right now is an extremely painful experience.

I have to go. The Cat-Demon wants to know how long I can hold a split.

—Pasco Acalon, your newly disabled student.

Sandry grinned. Pasco was the same way about Yazmin, but she knew he loved his lessons all the same, no matter how much he complained. She folded the letter back up and opened the one from Daja.

__

Saati,

I know you miss the others and me. You didn't really need to say so in the letter. If you remember, I was supposed to come back right after my stay in Namorn, if Frostpine hadn't decided to dip south a little to thaw, as he puts it.

Speaking of Namorn, the girls wrote to me recently. Jory met a green mage, and she's made something to add to tonic—you know, like that stuff Rosethorn made me drink after the harbor chain incident—that neutralizes that awful taste without affecting the potency of the potion. The mage gave her some so she could test it, after she found a few volunteers in a healer's batch of patients to use it on. It's not really a big deal, but I wish someone had thought of that before I_ had to take it._

Nia's working on a pet project of her own. Some sort of hard polish that makes furniture scratch resistant, so you can't hurt it unless you really try to stab it or something, and even then it's difficult. Amusing, really.

I'll send this now, while I can. Who knows when I'll find another messenger?

—Daja.

Sandry picked up the next letter, Tris's.

__

Sandry,

Thankfully, I didn't have to deal with my student long before I found him another teacher. He wasn't particularly annoying, but it's the most ridiculous feeling in the world to be teaching someone older than you are. That Pasco Acalon of yours is two years younger, at least.

I know you want me to write more, but I just got a new book and I'd like to get some reading in before we have to go again.

—Tris

Sandry broke the seal on the last letter, the one from Briar.

__

Hey Duchess,

You're probably gonna kill me for not writing sooner, but no one wanted to make the trip from so far away, so I'm sending this now from a little past Sotat. Even so, I'm _probably going to get there first, these messengers are so slow._

Tris and Daja said they got rid of their students. I did too. Funny how this stuff happens, isn't it, Bag? Is yours gone?

Anyway, it's bleatin' scary how it happened so neatly. Guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though. It's nice to be able to travel without a dozen cats. Gods, I've spent too much time with you girls. I was blabbing so much I almost forgot to tell you what actually happened.

We got to Yanjing, and even bought a few trees to make shakkans_, though the one I stole from Crane will always be my favorite. I'll probably sell them when I get home, since I'll get a better price in a place far from where they're common. We visited a couple of inns to get the best rooms for our money. Well, there was one that we were thinking about staying at, but there were just two rooms left. I called Evvy over to see what she thought about sharing a room with Rosethorn, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. They started talking so fast I lost track. The innkeeper was Evvy's aunt—really, the only one who liked her. The aunt had actually been looking for her after her parents left and sold her without warning. Better yet, she had stone magic. Maybe that's why she liked Evvy. Some sort of affinity for stone mages. Did I just say that? Great. Must've been too comfortable lately. Turning into some sort of lily-footed Bag. Can't even talk like real people anymore._

That enough for you, your Highness? You're always complaining about how I don't say enough in my letters.

—Briar.

Sandry slipped the stack back into her bag and stuck her head out to talk to the driver. "How much longer before we get to Winding Circle?"

"We're there, Lady."

Startled, Sandry looked around, seeing that he was right. She heard him chuckle.

"Didn't notice we stopped moving? Perfect timing too."

Sandry turned and saw three wagons coming to a halt a little bit away from her. A figure climbed out of each.

Being the farthest away, Sandry picked up her skirts and ran. They were all about five feet apart when—

Sandry felt herself blown back with a soundless explosion. She felt a line of pain etch itself onto her arm as her sleeve ripped on a sharp rock embedded in the ground. She carefully used her other arm to help herself up, flinching, then looking around at the others.

Their conditions weren't much better. Tris rubbed a bump on her head with an irate expression. Daja sported a bruise that stood out even on her dark skin. Briar growled a few curses as he gripped an arm he hadn't landed on properly.

"What was _that_?" demanded Rosethorn. Their teachers had run up to investigate when the four had gone flying.

"Who knows?" replied Niko. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "My best guess is that their magic wasn't used to being apart so long, so when they came back together, it came back together—explosively."

"Am I the only one who didn't understand that?" asked Frostpine.

Niko shrugged. "It's just a guess. It is the nature of things, that when stretched, either stay stretched, or return to its original shape, violently."

The kids exchanged a four-way glance. Carefully, they started to walk towards each other. They met in a tight square with no mishaps.

"Well, whatever it was, it was a one time thing," Daja informed the adults. They shrugged and left the four to their reunion.

Sandry looked at each of them in turn. They'd all gotten so tall! Besides that, they were the same as ever. Tris was an inch shorter than her own five feet seven inches, but still the same, albeit with slightly tamer red curls. Daja was five eight, with longer black hair pulled back into a multiple-braided horsetail, but her brown eyes were as calm as they always were, and her build still sturdy. Briar was a scant inch taller than their dark friend, and maintained a mischievous light in his gray green eyes.

"So, Duchess," he said, eyeing her elaborate braids and the dress she hadn't been able to change out of. The grin he was wearing was more than a bit evil. "I take it the royal treatment agrees with you?"

A laugh escaped him as Sandry smacked him with the flat of her hand.

"Very funny. You know I only wear these things because my uncle wants me to. And if you think it's okay to rub it in, I suggest you try it on first."

Daja snorted. "Rosethorn would have a field day with that one."

"So would I," Tris added, looking up from her book.

The others looked at her. "You didn't have that a second ago," Daja commented.

"I think she has more hiding places for those things than Briar does for knives."

Briar gasped in mock horror. "Impossible! You can't carry more than a dozen books and still walk."

Sandry blinked. "If I ever need to cut something, I know who to ask."

"Don't ruin the edge for cutting! If you're gonna borrow one of my knives, someone had better get stabbed."

She smiled sweetly. "If you're that 'someone'?"

He took half a step back. "Sometimes I'm terrified of you," he murmured.

Rosethorn had reached them. "And for that we are proud of her. Now, do I have 'volunteers' to help bring the packs in?" 

The kids looked at each other, knowing the real meaning behind her words, and rushed to move the bags.

****

Sorry. I always have trouble with the four meeting up. I didn't know what they'd talk about. This was the most boring chapter I have planned so far. The next couple are much more interesting. I _tried_ to make it funny, for what it's worth. And I love Briar getting beaten up. 'Tis amusing. Tris was reading too much 'cause I couldn't think of anything for her to say in that situation.

Ah, well. Feel free to email if you want. Ladysandrilene@hotmail.com. My inbox is sadly empty.

Review, please, and be gentle. I make jokes, but my ego is fragile after the catastrophe that was my other story. *waits* Well? What's the delay? I told you to review!


	3. Link

****

I'm so sorry I haven't updated for so long! In my world, free time is nonexistent. I worked all day to bring you guys this chapter today. Don't be mad, please? And thank the characters for behaving in this chapter. None of them wanted to act weirdly. In fact, they almost wrote the chapter for me.

Disclaimer: If I owned this, it wouldn't be a fanfic, would it? And I'm not Tamora Pierce, or in the PotS series Kel would have ended up with Neal. *curses Yuki and Dom for getting in the way*

Oh, AerinBrown asked how old the students were. I neglected to mention it directly. It's set a lot like my other one. They're about sixteen. But why do you want to know?

So, here's chapter three. And I would suggest not drawing conclusions yet. No one could guess accurately at this point what's going to happen. *evil smiles* And as to anything that doesn't seem to make sense, well, let me just say, wait and see.

Sandry stepped carefully into Discipline, avoiding the hem of her dress while supporting her end of a particularly large bag.

"Wait," Daja said after a few more steps. She pivoted slowly, making it so Sandry was facing forward.

"It's alright," the noble said, shifting to turn them back around.

"no," was the firm reply. "I'd actually like to talk to you later—"

"Which'll be more than a bit hard if you trip over those flap-rags and black out," Briar finished for the Trader, passing by them to deposit bags into his own room.

Rosethorn raised a fine eyebrow. "Eloquently put," she remarked with her sarcastic drawl. Briar just grinned and ran to grab more packs.

A few moments later, Sandry followed suit to take her own saddlebags in. "I hope the maid packed sensible clothes. She always did have a tendency to dress me up like a lady of the court." Sandry stopped as she remembered something. "Lark? Where's Comas?"

The dedicate looked up, startled. "You mean I didn't tell you? He's staying in the dormitories. He made a run for it when he heard you four were returning."

"Why? Surely there's more people there."

Lark smiled. "He's—heard stories."

"Maybe if I go talk to him?"

Lark shook her head, still smiling.

Sandry shrugged and dropped her bag on the floor of her newly—albeit temporarily—reclaimed room

The kids finished and plopped down on chairs.

"This is why they tell us to pack light."

"Exactly."

"If I hadn't been talking to Uncle, I might have remembered to not let Rosela pack for me."

"Why?'"

"She's extravagant when it comes to my clothes."

"Who's Rosela?"

"The maid."

"Oh."

"Why did I ever pick a room upstairs?"

"You were afraid I'd nick your stuff."

"And I think you liked the view."

"I don't know, I asked you if you wanted it and you said it was nice."

"It was a rhetorical question."

"We're too tired to tell the difference."

"Tell me about it."

They were silent for a moment, the honeyed summer air making them pleasantly lazy. Briar's voice floated through the thick atmosphere of the room.

"What was with that explosion earlier?"

Tris opened an eye to look at him. "You heard Niko. It probably had something to do with our magic."

"I've never heard of magic doing that for no reason."

"Just like you've never heard of magic being spun together before. Still happened to us, didn't it?"

"But this hasn't happened to us before ei—"

"You might want to unpack you bags now." The kids turned to see Lark. "Trust me when I say you four will be even more tired later." They scurried into their rooms to follow her advice.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sandry finished a few hours later, not really paying attention to what she was doing. She stumbled out of her room to see Lark and Rosethorn setting up for the evening meal. Briar was already out, helping them. Sandry smiled to herself. He was always one to try to get to a meal as soon as possible.

Tris and Daja came down, the latter asking, "Is it suppertime yet? I'm starv—" She stopped when she saw the table already set up.

Everyone sat. They ate without saying much, really starting to feel the bruises they collected from their falls.

Lark rose. "Baths," she announced.

They groaned. "But that means we'd have to move," Briar protested.

"It'll relieve the aches," Lark cajoled.

"We're going to have to get up eventually." Tris stood with a wince.

"Oh, fine," he assented. "Ouch," they heard him murmur. He was up. "Ouch. Ouchouchouchouch…"

Rosethorn regarded him with raised eyebrows. "Stop complaining," she commanded. "If you want something to whine about…" she started, as a small, evil smile formed on her lips.

Briar fell silent immediately, staring at her in horror. Slowly he began to inch away.

The remaining two stood, using the table for leverage. Everyone trudged off to the baths. Lark, Rosethorn, and the girls headed off to the private baths, as usual. 

Sandry selected a room and closed the door behind her. Setting down some clean clothes and a towel, she smiled to herself. _I've gotten spoiled. In Hatar I was used to public baths. Then I got here, and Tris and Daja had issues with it, and of course in the Citadel I got my own tub._ She stripped and sank into the heated water, letting it ease the growing soreness as she washed. The noble leaned back and closed her eyes with a sigh, exhausted from the day and the shortage of sleep.

__

This is nice. I must've fallen harder than I thought. I wonder what happened. Briar could be right—it doesn't quite make sense. And those dreams are the oddest things. Nothing even particularly threatening happens, I just get a weird feeling from them. It's not even so bad. Maybe it's just because it's at night. Sleep does muddle your senses…

Sandry woke suddenly to a knock on the door. "Sandry, are you alright? It's been an hour and you're not done yet."

"I'm fine!" she called. "I just fell asleep, sorry. I'll be out in a moment."

Sandry got out of the now cold water and dried off quickly. She pulled on a soft undyed robe and opened the door.

"I was afraid you drowned," Dedicate Lark teased.

Sandry replied with a grin as they walked back to the cottage.

"Why do you girls always take so long?" Briar demanded. "In the time I've been back, I could've weeded Rosethorn's entire garden by now." It was summer, so the weeds were at their worst. "Twice."

Sandry bit her lips together to keep from laughing. They took to the chairs again, chatting about any recent news they might have missed. Still tired, she listened mostly, occasionally adding bits about Pasco's trip with Kalaryn. Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder, shaking her. "Hey, Duchess, your room's over _there_."

"What?" she asked, startled. Daja and Tris were gone already, and the Hub bell was sounding eleven. "Sorry, I must've fallen asleep again."

"You never do that." He frowned at her when she looked up. "Dark circles? Is everything okay?"

"I haven't been sleeping too well, that's all. And if it's so late, why are you still up?"

"What kind of thief would I be if I went to sleep at a _normal_ time?"

"You're not a thief anymore," was the dry reply.

"What makes you think that?" he asked with a grin.

"I won't hesitate to hit you on the head again." She yawned.

"That threat would have been more impressive if you weren't talking in your sleep at the moment."

She glared, but didn't say anything as she stumbled into her bed. She was asleep immediately.

__

She felt the mass of swirling winds in front of her. Without warning, one flew out and whisked around her violently before dispersing.

Her surroundings faded, and suddenly she saw the sturdy rope that had been haunting her dreams. A shadow whipped up its length. Suddenly the four strands unraveled and shot out, disappearing into the darkness around her.

Sandry rolled out of bed and gathered up her covers shakily. Snatching her pillow, she deposited everything on the floor in the main room, before the shrine.

She heard scurrying and a flood of cursing in Briar's room before he came out with his blanket. Tris and Daja crashed down the stairs, in the same condition. "You too?" Tris asked.

Briar grunted a yes. Sandry nodded. "You've been having dreams too?"

The others looked at her, startled. Daja stared at her. "No…."

Briar wore an odd expression. "You have." It wasn't a question. "That's why you haven't been sleeping well, isn't it?"

Sandry's bright blue eyes flicked to him. Slowly, she nodded. "But it was just the rope before, not the winds—"

Daja interrupted her. "Winds? I dreamed of fire…."

Tris's mouth was dry. "Tides."

"Vines."

Sandry blinked. "But in every case, things were flying apart?"

Three heads nodded agreement.

"Maybe we all dreamed of different things because of our magic?"

"Tris's magic is wind, not mine."

"Sometimes wind is associated with cloth."

"So what's this all about?" Briar asked.

Tris answered. "Remember what Niko said? Maybe this is just another side effect of coming back together. Our magic was coming back together again."

It made sense, so they all settled down to catch what sleep they had left.

As Sandry drifted off to sleep, a something occurred to her. _The strands flew apart, just as we were separated, but why didn't it come back together when we did?_ Sleep claimed her, and the thought was lost.

****

Now, aren't I evil? This isn't as much as a cliffhanger as you probably think it is. You'll see, but not for a while…

I tried to save time when reviewing, so some of the replies are grouped together. I checked the reviews a few days ago, so if I missed yours, I apologize. Just say so and I'll put it in the next chap.

Seshira, TiGgEr, terzian, ladyknight, mystery, & Andrea: Thanks!

Muslima & Storm Mage: Yay! You're still reading my stuff. And I'm still waiting for your stories. When are you three going to update?

Evenstar: Thanks, and—we'll see about the romance. *evil grin*

Kiara: *hands you flowers* Prize to you, because you were my first reviewer for BOTH chapters!

Russetwolf713: Lol. I just made them a bit taller than they were in the TCO books (except I don't know about Tris). I know exactly what you mean. TP makes almost all of her characters tall. I'm only about five feet, myself.

AerinBrown: It may lead up to more than you think…

Arsahi: No! Don't read the other one! Don't! Okay, Pasco's thing was funny I guess, but this is going to get serious soon. In fact, it's already started. The story gets darker, and I really start delving into the plot.

Anyanka: It's good to know I've improved. So, what do you think of that chapter just now?

Lady Lana: *glares at the knife that missed* Oh, screw that. *unsheathes sword and sends _that_ flying* God, Lana, don't you pay attention? The Duke was _not_ OOC, trust me. I read over all his scenes in the book before writing that. I said that the convo was bad 'cause I couldn't think of anything. And they weren't blown back that hard. It hurt, but it's not enough to kill them or anything. You've been watching Buffy too much. And the getting rid of their students…well, lets just say that after the mess-ups I did in NMTF, I didn't leave anything to chance. I _know_ it seemed too easy. Have a little faith, will you?

Miss Chips: My other story _is _bad, though. I think it is. Does that mean I don't like the occasional fluff story? LOL. And I totally get the frozen house thing. Mine is so cold I could store meat in here. Wow. Your praise is very motivational, and it doesn't sound like you just throw it around like some people who can find nice things to say to a story that's just "There once was a very good person who saved the world. The end." The fact that you like mine means a lot to me. As usual, thanks for listening to my continuous rants that come every chapter. And the last chapter of SToBA was excellent. It actually inspired me to finish chapter 3 ASAP.

Okay, there you go. I put them at the end so no one had to wait before reading the chap. And don't forget to review, it DOES speed up my writing.


	4. Acquaintances

****

Yeah, yeah, finally up. This should've been longer, but my free time got eaten away by Anita Blake books, my new obsession. So I just summed them up. They would've been boring even if I did go for the long version.

The last cloud blew away, allowing a ray of sunlight to strike the sleeping noble's eyes. She quickly brought her arms up to shield them while rolling away into a sitting position. She sat there, trying to rub sunspots out of her eyes.

Somewhere behind her, Briar mumbled something as he shifted to take her old spot. He yelped as he received the same not-so-figurative rude awakening.

Tris and Daja bolted upright, looking for the cause of the noise. When Daja finally realized what happened, she scowled. "Are you trying to wake the dead, Briar?"

Sandry stretched. "Remind me to draw the drapes before bed tonight."

"Lovely," Tris grumbled. "You two are woken blinded, we're deafened. Did anyone have a _normal_ transition between sleep and consciousness?"

"I did," Lark chirped as she came out of her room. "Are you up for a trip to Summersea? We're going to visit the Duke."

They nodded assent and scrambled to their rooms to change.

~*~

"So why are we going to the Citadel?" Tris smoothed out her skirts so she could sit comfortably.

Daja shrugged, laying her head on the wall. She moved it with a wince as the side of the wagon rattled against her temple.

"Rosethorn said something about being polite and not seeing his Grace in a while." Briar tried to balance a knife on a fingertip, then gave up when a stone in the road nearly caused him to lose a toe.

"Yazmin did want to meet you all."

"Why?" Daja yawned, cracking a knuckle on the wall. "And more importantly, why is this thing so blasted small?"

"She's heard stories and wanted to meet you all in person."

"What's with this? Only six bleatin' years since the quake—we're not dead or even old yet—and stuff 'bout us is common knowledge."

"Nothing we can do now," Tris countered. "I'd rather have false stories than a premature death."

"You know," Briar said thoughtfully. "Your parents are probably kicking themselves about sending you away. You're strong, and you could've made them rich."

A rare smile crept onto the redhead's face. "Serves them right."

~*~

"Yazmin Hebet, meet Trisana Chandler, Daja Kisubo, and Briar Moss." Yazmin held out a graceful hand for them to shake.

"Tris, please. I hate being called Trisana" She took the hand first.

Daja was next. She had an odd look on her face. "Mistress Yazmin, did you purchase some rolls of Yanjing silk from a Trader ship a few years back?"

Yazmin nodded. "I don't usually help buy materials for the costumes, but I do remember buying some from a family of Traders once. You were there?"

Daja nodded. "I wasn't actually present, because I was so young, but my mother made a big deal out of it because you're so well-known."

"Small world."

Briar offered a vine-covered hand. His power, considerably more disciplined now, kept the tattoos in check. They weren't as noticeable, and he could keep them still if he wanted to, so people wouldn't gawk.

Yazmin's grin was a little crooked. "Well, Briar Moss, you are something. How'd you come back home without a trail of young women following you?"

He returned the grin. "After so long, I've learned to lose them in crowds. Self defense, really."

She chuckled. "I'll make sure you never meet my youngest niece. You'd break her heart, wouldn't you?"

Briar raised his eyebrows. "Who, me?" He was all perfect innocence. He yelped suddenly as Sandry pulled his ear.

"Yazmin, could you please avoid inflating his ego? He doesn't need it."

The dancer's mouth twitched with amusement. "He's young. Humoring him is so easy. He thinks all teenage girls are after him."

Briar pried himself out of his friend's grip. "Only you three girls could resist my charms."

"Correction," Sandry said, leading the others down the hall. "Not only _we_ girls can resist your charms. Only _girls_ can resist." She watched calmly as Briar's eyes widened at the implication, and left him and his outraged squawks in the entranceway.

~*~

The sun had disappeared over the horizon for almost an hour. Twilight had come and gone. The wagon was rolling over a path beaten into a wooded area by too many horses. Niko was driving it, left to the task when the dedicates had been called away early for temple business. The kids were riding back the wagon yet again.

Daja yawned. "How many hours of sleep did we get last night? Three? Four?"

Tris's eyes were fluttering shut behind her spectacles. "Five, I think. It took us a while to calm down." It ended as a mumble.

"I was a thief. Now look at me. Barely sundown and I'm almost out," Briar was fighting to sound coherent. "Duchess, I take it back. This is why you were falling asleep so early yesterday, isn't it? How long's it been going on?"

Sandry was sliding into an undignified heap on the floor, only half-conscious. "A few nights, maybe three, plus yesterday."

"Three?" Briar was considerably clearer, and they heard him sit up. "Tris, when did we cross Emelan's border?"

Storm-gray eyes snapped open. "They started when we crossed?"

Daja sounded bored. "So? It just supports Niko's theory, doesn't it?"

The wagon hit a root sticking out of the path. The four were jostled. Four cries of pain were heard as they all fell awkwardly.

Sandry crawled over and lifted the flap. "Niko?"

Niko slowed the horse and craned his head back to see the kids nursing small bruises. "I apologize for that."

"No, not an apology, just…next time, can we just ride on horses?"

"Of course. I suppose it's habit to make you four do this."

Sandry's peripheral vision caught on something pale in the darkness. The white blur cut through the air, hitting a tree, not six inches from one of the horses. It clattered as it fell into the dirt. The horse screamed and reared.

"What's going on?" Briar, Daja, and Tris tried to peer around Sandry's shoulder.

Niko took a few moments to calm the terrified mare, then dismounted. Carefully, he picked up the offending object.

"It's a tambourine." His voice held amazement.

Distantly, they heard footsteps racing towards them.

"Wait!"

They waited, tense and ready for an attack. The figure was finally clearly visible through the darkness.

Her skin was a shadowed shade of Briar and Lark's golden-brown. Dark eyes sat under fine brows. Curling jet-black locks spilled past her shoulders, contrasting with a cream off-shoulder blouse. The colorful flared skirt hid her shoes. Even in the darkness a glitter of gold could be seen at her wrists.

She caught them, panting slightly. Up-close they saw that she was a few years older than the four, around her late teens.

"Forgive me, I mean no harm. Please believe me." Her voice was faintly accented. "May I ask for assistance to Winding Circle Temple? I am in a travelling group of dancers. I was separated from the caravan, and I can't find my way."

Niko relaxed. "She's telling the truth," he whispered to the others. They'd climbed out, readying themselves for battle if necessary. The tension dissipated with Niko's words. 

He looked back to the mysterious stranger. "We're headed for the temple. You may come with us, if you like. I am Niklaren Goldeye. This is Daja Kisubo, Briar Moss, Trisana Chandler, and Sandrilene fa Toren."

Her dark eyes widened. "The four mages," she whispered. "And Niklaren Goldeye." She swept a curtsey. "I am honored to be in the presence of such prominent people. My name is Esaeldera Jiranelle."

They returned the greetings, still shaken by her choice of attention-grabbers.

~*~

Esaeldera's mother was yet another friend from Lark's past. She'd decided to visit her old companion, and had been almost panicked about losing her daughter. The stately woman was relieved to find her safe, and thanked all the luck-gods she could name.

Niko was at a meeting with Moonstream. Esaeldera and her mother approached the rest.

"Esaeldera is skilled at palmistry. As thanks for earlier, would you like a reading?"

"I would like to be friends." Esaeldera's voice was soft.

Sandry smiled. "We'd love to have a reading." She stopped the others before they said anything. _It's an insult to their skill if you don't, _she told them in their heads. They got up.

Esaeldera kneeled on the floor. Briar offered a scarred hand. She picked it up, ignoring the scars. They couldn't see the magic. It was more like their own power. It was there until you tried to look at it. _There's a faint scent,_ Daja told them. _It smells like mimander magic._

Gently the Esaeldera ran a finger over one of the creases.

The girl gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She dropped Briar's hand like a hot coal, shock registering in her eyes.

****

No replies to reviewers this time, people. Too tired. And I don't know how long it'll be 'til my next update, cause I haven't planned the next few parts as well as everything up to now, so it'll take a while to think up. The annoying part is I have a few parts for the distant future, but I don't feel like writing these parts in particular. Maybe if I get a few ideas, some sort of inspiration.

As usual, review, or I might get stuck! Yes, that is a threat. 


	5. Prophecy

****

I'm sooooo sorry! I got stuck, and then I really was going to update last Wednesday, but I couldn't finish in time, and a certain part(you'll know when you read it, it totally stands out from the rest) took me two days to get right. I finished yesterday, but I couldn't get it typed up until today. Please don't kill me!

I always forget the disclaimer. Don't own it, 'kay? Go away. NO! I meant _after_ you read and review it. Come back…please?

Thanks to silver.shadow, celeste, Drunken Little Monkey, Anyanka, Kitty, Lady Lana, Starlight, Ninsetta Tristel Sundar, AerinBrown, Ellia Silvermist, Darke Angel, Miss Chips, and Arsahi for reviewing. Particularly to the people who were encouraging and the ones who poked and prodded until I felt so guilty I had to update. Double to AerinBrown because she reviewed twice. Lana, bite me. You're in trouble when you get back from camp. YES, ANYANKA, I AGREE, NOT UPDATING IS A BAD THING. *HINT, HINT, NOT SO SUBTLE _HINT_* *clears throat*To Darke Angel, yes, Esaeldera is pretty important.

*sigh* You guys probably don't even remember what the story's about. Let me refresh your memory. It's gonna take a while, but at least you'll remember where everyone is.

*corny, overdone television voice* LAST TIME, ON UNSPUN:

A rope was being separated into four strands, slowly and painfully.

_Unspun_. The thought drifted to her like a whisper.

No, stop it, stop it, she thought as a sense of urgency washed over her. The rope had to stay together. If it came apart—

***

__

Coppercurls and the Trader said they got rid of their students. I did too. Funny how this stuff happens, isn't it, Bag? Is yours gone?

***

She dug a little deeper and pulled out a stack of letters. Regrettably, she hadn't had time to read them. _I have time now, more than I know what to do with._ She flipped it open.

It was from Pasco.

__

Lady Sandry, you're supposed to keep me out of trouble. How could you let me go with Mistress Kalaryn? You should have hit me over the head and tied me up until she left.

She had me try this awful stretch…

***

"Lark? Where's Comas?"

The dedicate looked up, startled. "You mean I didn't tell you? He's staying in the dormitories.

***

Sandry turned and saw three wagons coming to a halt a little bit away from her. A figure climbed out of each.

Being the farthest away, Sandry picked up her skirts and ran. They were all about five feet apart when-

Sandry felt herself blown back with a soundless explosion. She felt a line of pain etch itself onto her arm as her sleeve ripped on a sharp rock embedded in the ground. She carefully used her other arm to help herself up, flinching, then looking around at the others.

Their conditions weren't much better. Tris rubbed a bump on her head with an irate expression. Daja sported a bruise that stood out even on her dark skin. Briar growled a few curses as he gripped an arm he hadn't landed on properly.

"What was that?" demanded Rosethorn. Their teachers had run up to investigate when the four had gone flying.

"Who knows?" replied Niko. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "My best guess is that their magic wasn't used to being apart so long, so when they came back together, it came back together-explosively."

***

They were silent for a moment, the honeyed summer air making them pleasantly lazy. Briar's voice floated through the thick atmosphere of the room.

"What was with that explosion earlier?"

Tris opened an eye to look at him. "You heard Niko. It probably had something to do with our magic."

"I've never heard of magic doing that for no reason."

"Just like you've never heard of magic being spun together before. Still happened to us, didn't it?"

***

__

She felt the mass of swirling winds in front of her. Without warning, one flew out and whisked around her violently before dispersing.

Her surroundings faded, and suddenly she saw the sturdy rope that had been haunting her dreams. A shadow whipped up its length. Suddenly the four strands unraveled and shot out, disappearing into the darkness around her.

She heard scurrying and a flood of cursing in Briar's room before he came out with his blanket. Tris and Daja crashed down the stairs, in the same condition. "You too?" Tris asked.

***

Esaeldera kneeled on the floor. Briar offered a scarred hand

Gently the Esaeldera ran a finger over one of the creases.

The girl gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She dropped Briar's hand like a hot coal, shock registering in her eyes…

****

Esaeldera's frantic panting didn't cease. She wavered. Briar reached out to steady her.

"Don't touch me!" She scrambled backwards, so she was sitting instead of kneeling. "Give me a moment." She buried her head between her knees. The vivid skirt and dark curls worked together to hide her face. "Too much…"

Sandry heard her struggle to steady her breathing. A flash of red drew Sandry's eyes to the other girl's hand.

It was a wreck. Blood seeped from small, messy puncture wounds, and shallow cuts crisscrossed the skin. It looked like Esaeldera had dragged her hand though thorns.

"Your hand!" Those cuts hadn't been there before the reading.

The girl in question didn't hear.

Esaeldera's mother had returned from the privy (none of them had noticed her go) and spotted her daughter huddled on the floor, blood seeping from a mangled hand.

"Esaeldera!" The sharp bark made everyone look up. "What happened?" Her voice was much more gentle now that she had gotten her attention.

Esaeldera was looking around wildly, not really seeing the room. Sandry heard Esaeldera mutter something that sounded like "_miyat _Osertamon" before dashing out of the room.

Briar was puzzled. "Maya-whatsis?" 

Lisern (Esaeldera's mother, sorry I didn't mention it earlier) shook her head. "_Miyat_ Osertamon. _Miyat_ is the title for the caravan's Storyteller."

Tris fiddled with her spectacles. "Storyteller?" She reached down to pet Little Bear, who was obviously trying to get her attention.

"The _miyat_ keeps track of things that need remembering, like the caravan's deeds, legends, messages from the gods, and such," Lisern told her. "Why would she go to the _miyat_?" That seemed more addressed to herself than the redhead. "She rarely speaks to him, so it must be for information she needs, not a personal opinion. But _why_ would she need to know something from him all of a sudden, unless—no. That's impossible. Not in this day and age! It's been centuries since—"

"Rosethorn?" Niko came into the room and spotted the kids. "Do you know where Rosethorn is? The Water Temple needs her yet again…" They shook their heads and caught sight of Esaeldera returning with a man they didn't know.

He was old, judging by the white of his hair and the creases on his face, but he held himself up without a trace of feebleness. Despite the creases, his face revealed strength and something akin to haughtiness.

Pale, nearly colorless eyes regarded Briar, Tris, Sandry, Daja, and finally came to a rest on Niko.

"You are Niklaren Goldeye." The deep voice was slightly gravelly, the remnant of the rumbling he must have possessed years ago. He inclined his head gravely in acknowledgement.

Esaeldera pulled at the man's arm before Niko could reply, looking strained. "This is no time for the niceties! Don't you _understand_? If—"

"Understand what?" Rosethorn appeared. Seeing the size of the gathering in the tiny room, her mouth twisted wryly. "I suppose my invitation to this little party was lost?"

_These people really have to stop going in and out, _Daja said through the link.

Tris added irritably, _If they don't stop interrupting each other and not telling us what's going on—_

—I'm going to put something poisonous into their soup, Briar vehemently finished for her. _She saw something important, and I want to know what it is!_

By that time, the introductions had been made. "Rosethorn, the healers need more cough syrup. They seem to have shattered a cabinet full of bottles _again_…"

"Don't let them harass you into being the messenger bird, Niko. I don't care what those flaming incompetents want this time, they can deal with the mess themselves."

"With utmost respect, Dedicate Rosethorn, Master Goldeye, I believe my daughter has something important to tell."

_Finally, _said Briar. "What did you see?"

Esaeldera looked as though she didn't know how to explain it. "I don't exactly _see…_" Most of the room just stared blankly.

"My daughter is something of an empath."

Esaeldera glanced at her mother gratefully. "I'm don't think I'm a mage exactly, but it's similar to mages communicating mind-to-mind with contact, except it's not necessarily current. I can pick up the stronger emotions that you will have, and occasionally physical sensations as well, like heat, cold, and pain, although—" she turned her hand over, which looked as though the scratches had never existed "—they fade quickly, but I only got Briar's present state and his near future, about a few weeks."

"So what's in my future?"

She met his eyes squarely. "Fear. Confusion. Suspicion. Denial. Scorn. Loss. Betrayal." The last word seemed to echo slightly.

She shifted her attention to include the girls. "Then I felt the magical connection. It's round, isn't it?" Sandry nodded and fished the lumpy circle of threat out of her bag. Esaeldera waved her hand over it and flinched. "It's powerful, just as the four of you are. I felt the extent of those powers. They're foreign to anything I know, but one I think I may have identified…they say you see magic unaided. It's true, isn't it?" More silent nods.

"Then I've no reason to believe I overreacted. Your ability to see magic, the extraordinary rumors—I was reminded of something I heard when I was little. At first I thought it was a legend. Then I talked to the _miyat_ and found I was wrong. Not a legend, but a prophecy dictates your futures." She paused here. "He said that you are the Guardians."

"What's a bleatin' Guardian?"

Osertamon surprised them all by speaking. "The original prophecy is in a dead language. The translation is somewhat cryptic, but you will agree that they are the Guardians.

"_The darkness, sealed dormant for many a dawn and dusk,_

Will break free of its gleaming scarlet bindings 

For the final battle.

Corners, Guardians, Chosen four

As there be one darkness, one mother, one battle

But one victor may emerge.

'Tis the sacred duty of the Guardians

Four gifted with illuminated Sight

To shelter the Chosen 'til the shadows descend.

But only the Chosen may dispel the shade unseen

To duel the darkness in their mother's blood

For her fate is that of all.

"What's with all the riddles and metaphors? _Why_ can't these blubbering seers ever say anything out straight?" Rosethorn's annoyance was palpable.

Niko stroked his chin. "Magic doesn't reveal the world's secrets so freely. There's always a margin of error. While many receive images and sounds from possible futures, a handful of others seek different means. Symbolic premonitions nearly always occur, but the price of the accuracy is the clarity of the event foretold."

"Huh?"

Niko glared at Briar. "The tradeoff for getting news of an event almost certainly _will_ happen instead of one that just _might_ happen is that it's harder to understand."

"So what does the prophecy mean?" Sandry asked, intrigued.

Esaeldera answered, indirectly. "You see magic as light, am I correct?"

Nod.

"As I thought. That was what originally reminded me of the prophecy. 'Illuminated sight.'"

"Who says it's us, though? I bet tons of other people can see magic. Niko for one. And he's a lot better." Briar looked as skeptical as he sounded.

"But he is only one man,: Esaeldera countered. "The four of you are boned magically. You've all performed unheard-of magical acts. You _are_ fit to be the stuff of legends."

Daja traced the star on the brass cap of her staff. "Don't make us sound so big. Most of the time it was do it or die. The rest of the times were accidental."

Sandry nearly grinned at this. The spinning of their magic's, their first astonishing feat, had been accomplished when Sandry had been terrified of being crushed in a quake underground. Desperate for survival, she melded their powers. Daja herself had somehow magicked metal to simulate a live tree while eavesdropping on one of Tris's conversations. Shortly after, Daja had shoved a forest fire trough her body, melting the brass cap on her old _trangshi_ staff. It had stuck to her hand, flexible enough to be ignored, and very similar to the metal of the tree. Sandry remembered all this while the Trader paused for breath, then continued, "And the rest?"

Tris blinked thoughtfully, only half-aware of her surroundings. "The part with '''Tis the sacred duty of the Guardians to shelter the Chosen' obviously means we're supposed to protect the Chosen, whoever they are."

"Sounds easy enough. We go find these 'Chosen' people, with just about no clue who or where they are, and protect them from something we know nothing about." Briar always did have a gift for sarcasm. "You can't be serious."

Osertamon was disdainful. "I assure you this is a genuine prophecy concerning you and your friends." There was a hint of exasperation as he glanced at Niko. "Ask the truthsayer, if you do not accept my word. I have told you no lies."

Niko stared at Briar in a way that said plainly, _Do not be rude. _"No need to doubt him, Briar. I he had been lying, I would have said so."

Esaeldera was clearly amused. "Denial."

Briar rolled his eyes but shut up.

"What do we know about the Chosen?" Sandry asked.

"When I first told him my suspicions, _miyat_ Osertamon had said that he suspected the mother of being a powerful mage. Perhaps she is destined to save the world, or something similar. 'Her fate is that of all.'"

Lisern nodded. "But first her children must 'duel the darkness in their mother's blood.'"

"It sounds like a disease," Osertamon added off-handedly.

Lisern's eyes widened at this. "Maybe it is…do you think the Chosen are healers?"

There was a trace of a smile on the _miyat's_ heavily lined face. "I believe we have found our Chosen. (_That old twig-in-the-dung smiles_? Briar asked the girls magically.) "Do you remember Greendale? The lost children you returned to their home?"

"The children of the village midwife?" Esaeldera asked.

"I sensed that they were exceptional. Did you not feel their power?"

"I thought it was my imagination," she admitted ruefully. "They were unusual already. I haven't seen quadruplets before or since then."

"We've made progress, then." Rosethorn smothered a yawn. "Why don't we stop for the night? We'll work on the rest tomorrow."

****

Well, how was that? The prophecy was _really_ hard to write. At least this was longer. It was double the usual length when I wrote it out on paper, even without all the author's notes and the "last time" stuff. 

Oh, just a note: The whole "Chosen" and "Guardians" deal does sound a lot like "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", but I swear it was not done intentionally. When I planned it, I already knew the use of the word "Chosen" as they have it, but I couldn't think of anything else I could use. The "Guardians" part I'd already decided on long before the last few episodes aired. Basically, not my fault.

I'm gonna try to have a mailing list for when this is updated. Include your email in the review if you want to be in it.

Reviews, please. Try to include your guesses too. I always love to read them, they're entertaining.


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